


Way Past Finn McKay's Bedtime

by squidgie



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: comment_fic, M/M, Series: A Farm in Iowa 'verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 12:30:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8372329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie
Summary: Written for Brumeier's prompt in comment_fic: Any, Any, “I see dead people.”  When I saw the prompt, it was like I had Finn McKay in my head, so I had to write it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in sheafrotherdon's Iowa 'verse, soon after Merrie was born and Finn McKay was about 4 years old.

The days and weeks after Merrie was born all seem to blur together for the first few months, though with the help of Mrs. Gunderson and Laura, John and Rodney occasionally get more than a forty-five minutes of sleep at a time. Finn _mostly_ takes it in stride, though John knows that his and Rodney's new sleep-deprive-fueled attitude of giving in to the demands of their oldest child has easily lessened their grip on what counts for normality on the farm. Rationally, John knows that the lax model of parenthood couldn't be all that bad, at least for a short period of time. But irrationally, he's muttered more than once that they were now, "Giving into terrorists," and that the act of not eating vegetables at dinner and an ever expanding bedtime would somehow lead to household anarchy, Finn coming home from Cadman's with a tattoo, and stealing John's truck under cover of night to drive into town to empty his piggybank at the all-night ice cream shop.

It was sometime after 5am, an hour or so after Merrie had last gone back down post feeding and diaper change, that John becomes barely conscious of something not quite right in their bedroom. But the smoke alarms weren't going off, no tinkling of glass against the hardwood floors, and no clanging of pots and pans coming from the kitchen, so at least the house wasn't on fire, nobody was breaking in, and Finn was still in bed. John barely opens his eyes, vision not quite focusing on Rodney's profile that practically glowed from the moonlight spilling into the room. He stretches, then decides to go back to sleep, so he punches his pillow and turns over, trying to get comfortable for a few more precious minutes of sleep - when he hears the voice.

"I see dead people."

John practically levitates out of the bed, his brain wide awake a few seconds before he even gets a chance to fully open his eyes. And when he does, he is treated to the sight of one Finn McKay, hands clasped over mouth, trying to laugh as quietly as possible. John wonders why Finn is holding it in, until he realizes there is yet another target to destroy. He watches in curious horror as Finn climbs into the bed and plasters himself against Rodney's side, trying to be as quiet as possible before he attacks a second time.

At least John had the grace to land on his feet, unlike Rodney, who falls off the side of it, howling almost loud enough to wake up Merrie when he lands on one of Finn's Hot Wheel cars. His outburst is followed almost immediately by a devious giggle that only a four year old can manage. But John has to admit that the flustered look of his boyfriend, hair flying askew in some resemblance of a mad scientist as Rodney peeks over the mattress, is almost funny. Almost.

Half an hour later, after they'd settled Finn between them and he'd finally fallen asleep, his nose pressed against Rodney's side and tiny hand fisted in Rodney's shirt, both John and Rodney are still awake, though the adrenalin was quickly draining from their system. "Seriously, Rodney," John says. "No more-" He stops abruptly, brain fuzzy from lack of sleep so instead of finishing his sentence, he just waves his hands over the innocent looking sleeping form of Finn McKay, " _this_." But before Rodney can respond, John adds, "And no more... You know - _movies_. And whatnot."

"It's not _my_ fault he watched 'Sixth Sense'," Rodney counters.

" _Really_?"

"Hey, listen. _You_ were probably snoring on the couch just as loud as I was. And I could have sworn he was watching Sesame Street when we passed out. He must have... I don't know.... Changed the channel?" Rodney sounds as if he doesn't even believe himself.

Trying to get at least one coherent thought to complete, John asks, "So, what... We set up parental controls or something on the DVR?"

Rodney gives John a look that, were he able to properly convey into words, would have led to Rodney disparaging John's lineage back many, many generations. Pointing accusingly at their sleeping son, Rodney balks, "And have _him_ be the only one that can operate the TV?"

John knows that Rodney's right, but he doesn't want to admit it. Especially at - he glances at the clock - 5:27am, when he knows Merrie will be up in an hour or two. He lays down on his back and shakes his head. Staring up at the ceiling, he sighs, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

When Rodney doesn't respond, John turns to him and is treated to the twin sights of his boyfriend and their son, arms thrown haphazardly about them as they drool in their sleep. So he turns onto his side, takes a few deep, calming breaths, then lets go of the final strings of tension and gives himself over to slumber.

That is, until about an hour later, he's awoken by a tiny voice that eeriely declares, "They're here!"


End file.
